In the morning my soul is plump and full of promise. In the morning my soul sings ‘Hallelujah’. I stride into my day, expectant. Alive.
I set my Spotify to a random selection of worship songs, desperately hoping it will choose Eagles Wings. I chat to God, I picture myself with a big life, abundant, full, free.
Let’s do this. Let’s soar.
And then. Afternoon. As the sun starts to set, so too doth my spirit. Like a dried up bird poo on my windscreen that once flew carelessly through the air, there goeth my soulful soaring.
I scramble for my phone, willing my Spotify to give me some sort of miraculous revival, I eek out a dry mouthed ‘it is well… with my soul…’ as I sob into my carbonated caffeine.
My souring ceases.
I want to fly through the air like a bird poo! But every day I hit the windscreen and dry up.
Eventually I stumble into the shower and wash away my failings like a wind screen wiper.
Ever hopeful I wake up the next day, ready to soar.
Perhaps I have misunderstood the verse?
Like the Bec paraphrased version says…
Isaiah 40:31 (BPV)
but those who hope in the Lord
will renew their strength.
They will soar like eagle excrement;
they will run and not grow weary,
they will walk and not be faint.